One Year Later
Tayla sat behind her desk poring over the new year’s budget. As a result of her massive campaigning efforts and trips into Seattle, they’d been awarded several grants and now had almost twice the students they’d had this time last year. The construction on the new building had just been completed last week, and she had interviews scheduled for the next few days as she tried to fill all the teaching slots she now had available.
Lifting her head, she let it roll counterclockwise and rubbed her neck. She’d been in this office for hours, trying to make sure every penny was accounted for. Grayson Moore was hers now, the prior owners having opted to sell the facility after the fire damage and the news of a dead body being found on the mountain. Tayla remembered those first weeks after they’d found Jerome’s body burned in the ashes of that cabin. It had been chaos.
Police had been on the mountain day and night looking for clues and asking questions. Finally, they’d ruled it arson and closed the case. About a month after that Tayla had received a letter from an attorney in Boston. Still searching for closure of that part of her life, she’d boarded a plane and flown to the place she’d known most of her life. It looked different, smelled different. It simply was different, and she realized it was no longer her home. She belonged on her mountain with her students. And just as soon as she found out what this lawyer wanted, she was headed right back there.
“It’s all yours,” the stately gentleman with the flashing gray eyes told her as she sat in a deep-cushioned chair in his office.
Tayla blinked rapidly, then looked down at the small stack of paperwork he’d handed her. “What’s all mine?” Her hands were shaking as she casually flipped through the papers, not really reading a thing that was printed on them, but grateful for the slight breeze it created because suddenly she felt really hot.
“The estate, the company, the investments. They’re all yours.” He smiled at her, as if he’d just given her the moon.
Tayla sighed, thinking if he were telling her the truth he’d probably done just that. “How can that be? We were divorced.”
“Ms. Hampton, there was never any divorce. I still have the papers in my file cabinet. Jerome never signed them.”
She shook her head negatively. “That’s impossible. His mother told me she signed them for him. She told me she’d made sure I was out of his life.” She stood on wobbly legs, because she seemed to be losing her breath just sitting still. She paced the large office slowly, every now and then looking over at the attorney.
“I don’t know who you’re referring to, but Jerome never signed any divorce papers, therefore you were legally still his wife when he died. He left everything to you.”
“But everything wasn’t his. His mother. Lorraine?” Tayla had tried to put all thoughts of that woman, or whatever she was, out of her mind. That entire event was over and done with and she had no intention of ever speaking of it again. No bodies had been found in that other cabin, not Usef’s and not Lorraine’s. She was the only remaining witness to what had happened there, and she’d take that secret to her grave. Besides, who would believe her?
“Mr. Ranier left everything to his son. I believe Jerome simply let his mother handle all the business and finances. He never really had a head for it himself. At any rate, it wasn’t hers, and now it all belongs to you.”
Tayla began to shake all over and wondered if sitting down wasn’t the wisest idea. She turned to go back to her chair and Mr. Finnigan, the attorney, captured her arm and guided her. “Why don’t you have a seat? You look a little unsteady.”
“I feel a little unsteady.” She sat back down.
“Ms. Hampton, I understand that you have made a life elsewhere, but with this inheritance you can start all over, have the life you’ve always wanted.”
Tayla looked at Mr. Finnigan in his expensive suit and shiny shoes and just beyond him out the window to the beautiful cloudless day. She could start over, have the life she always wanted. Mr. Finnigan smiled, and it was like an extra bright ray of sunshine, and Tayla grinned.
“Thank you, Mr. Finnigan. I feel as if I’ve been rejuvenated.”
And she had. She left the business in Boston as it was, trusting that the CEO there would handle things. She would be the silent owner. She returned to her mountain; that was where she wanted her new life to be.
That had been roughly twelve months ago, and now she was enjoying the fruits of her labor. She frowned down at the spreadsheets again. “If that’s what you want to call it,” she mumbled. A brief look at the clock told her she needed to wrap things up. It was almost seven o’clock, and she couldn’t be late.
She began assembling her papers, trying to keep them in order as she put them in the file folder she’d tackle again tomorrow. The sun had set a while ago but the sky was still light, well, at least it had been until a really dark cloud descended directly over the building. Her office darkened, and she frowned. “Storm’s coming.”
She moved a little faster getting stuff together, then clicked off her computer and was about to turn off the lamp on her desk and grab her purse when there was a knock on her door. It was almost inaudible, but with each light tap her heart had thumped heavily in her chest. She stared at the heavy oak door and stood from her chair.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her legs began to move, but she felt as if she still stood still. She reached her hand out and touched the knob. It was warm, almost hot, and she jerked away.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She hesitated. A breeze started at her feet, encircling her as it slowly made its way to her nose. She inhaled deeply, clutched a hand to her chest and almost swooned. She would have hit the floor with a resounding thump if at that very moment the door hadn’t swung open and the person who had been knocking hadn’t stepped inside and caught her floundering body.
Strong arms carried her to the sofa and laid her down gently. She kept her eyes closed, afraid of what she’d see when she opened them. Then finally, when the person still hadn’t spoken, but had not left the room either, she cracked first one, then both eyes, and stared into his face. A wave of something akin to relief washed over her and she let out a deep breath.
“Oh? I’m sorry.” Hurriedly she pulled herself up to a sitting position on the chair and tried to stand.
His large hands on her shoulders held her still. “Wait a second, not so fast. You don’t look stable enough to stand.”
A deep, rich voice moved throughout the office, and Tayla closed her eyes in embarrassment. “No, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” She moved to stand again. This time he backed up and let her stand directly in front of him.
He was tall and broad and actually blocked her path. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, a little unsure of what to do or say next. She couldn’t get around him, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move.
“I’m here for the teaching position,” he stated.
He watched her closely, and Tayla felt the smooth hairs on the back of her neck stiffen. He was a handsome man, something she hadn’t seen in a long time, or hadn’t noticed, one or the other. A rich caramel complexion, dark eyes, a neat goatee, close cut hair and really nice lips. Oh, goodness, you’ve been up on this mountain way too long if you’re looking at a strange man’s lips.
“Ah, I don’t have any interviews scheduled for today, sir.” She tried to get around him again. “Excuse me,” she finally had to say because his large form just hadn’t budged. He took one slow step to the side and she tried to get past him. They had been standing between the couch and a coffee table full of magazines she kept for the kids, so even though he’d turned sideways, he still took up a substantial amount of the small walk space. Tayla turned sideways, sucked in her stomach and, she prayed, her breasts too, and tried to squeeze past him.
Okay, remind me to throw out that box of Butterscotch Krimpets. The tips of her breasts brushed over his rock hard chest and she sucked in an amazingly big gulp of air. “Excuse me,” she muttered again as she finally managed to get past him and move to her desk.
It was still warm so she wore a flowing white sundress; her arms were bare, as were her legs, at least what you could see of them beneath the almost ankle-length dress. Still she was pretty damn hot right about now. He watched her walk, she could feel it—couldn’t all women feel when a man was checking them out? But Tayla didn’t want to be checked out. She didn’t want to be feeling any of this precarious heat that was swirling around beneath her dress.
Hurriedly she snatched up her appointment book and flipped to today’s date. “Nope. My next interview is tomorrow morning at nine.”
The man slid his hands into his pockets and walked over to her desk. He didn’t speak but held her eyes captive as he made his way closer and closer until the next thing she knew, he was standing behind the desk right next to her.
“I’m early.” He slid the book from her hands and dropped it on the desk. Then he wrapped his big hands around her smaller ones. He leaned back on the desk and pulled her to stand between two very muscled thighs. “I couldn’t wait another day.”
The sky that had darkened only moments earlier rumbled again, and persistent rain began a soothing rhythm against the windows.
Tayla tilted her head, looked deeply into his eyes and felt a jolt of familiarity. She looked away quickly, but didn’t try to remove her hands from his. Her heart hammered in her chest and she thought she’d faint for sure.
It can’t be. Not again.
He rubbed his thumbs over her hands and, when she still didn’t look at him, he released them, moving to run his fingers through her hair that was flowing past her shoulders. “Like fire,” he whispered.
She sucked in a breath but still couldn’t bring herself to look at him. No. No. I waited and you didn’t come. I thought you were more like your mother and my wishes didn’t come true.
“I was wrong. I told you if there was a way I could come back to you, I would.”
She heard his words, his answer to her unspoken comments, and felt a sob break free. A finger to her chin turned her head and she looked at him again…finally. In those eyes she saw the flames, the crashing waves, and her heart sang out.
“Hello, Tayla. I am Terrence Phoenix.” He cupped her face, wiped away the falling tears with his thumbs. “And I am still deeply in love with you.”
Tayla broke down and cried then, not heart-wrenching sobs of grief she remembered oh so well, but refreshing tears of joy as she reached up and touched his cheeks, grazed her fingers over his forehead, his ears, his lips. “And I with you, my love.”